


Seeing in the Dawn

by SherlocksSister



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John, But NOT Sherlock or John, Character Death, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Parentlock, Setlock Series 4, Sherlock with stubble, watson baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:57:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7332055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlocksSister/pseuds/SherlocksSister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the wonderful story MR#1430155 by blueink3 and a setlock series 4 photo I saw of Sherlock with stubble. Why would the immaculate Sherlock have stubble? Because he has been so busy taking care of the newborn Watson baby, of course! However, this is 221b Baker Street and having a baby is not as straightforward as it should be.</p><p>"She couldn’t understand why he wasn’t coming. He always came when she cried and held her tightly, hugged her, rocked her and sang to her"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Charlotte Cried

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blueink3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueink3/gifts).
  * Inspired by [MR# 1430155](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7311934) by [blueink3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueink3/pseuds/blueink3). 



> Inspired by the story MR~1430155 by blueink3, where Baby Watson is born and named Charlotte Sherlock Rachel Watson. I have read a lot of different stories about the baby but this is my favourite name for her so far.  
> I am [sherlockssister1](http://sherlockssister1.tumblr.com/) on tumblr - come and say Hi

Partly inspired by this lovely photo which made me wonder why Sherlock had not shaved and why is he with Wiggins?

 

 

Charlotte cried. It started as a tentative ‘wah’ followed by a deep breath in. She was undecided if she was going to do it again. She was scared and there were big noises, everywhere. Suddenly Charlotte decided she was _very_ scared and did the only thing she could to show it, cry. This time, the cries were loud and persistent, coming in waves as only the cries of a new born can, becoming more high-pitched and louder with every moment.

She couldn’t understand why he wasn’t coming. He _always_ came when she cried and held her tightly, hugged her, rocked her and sang to her. Charlotte loved his singing. He smelled safe, of home and milk and a wet, fluffy smell that meant warmgentlemine. He said he was called Daddy. When he chatted away to her, he would always say “Who’s Daddys best girl, hmm?” and “Christ Charlotte, how come you saved that nappy for Daddy? Couldn’t Sherlock have had that one, just for a change?”

Charlotte started to panic now, tears rolling down her face. She kicked her arms and legs frantically, pushing off the blanket and knocking her cuddly rabbit up to the top of her Moses basket. Where _was_ he? Why wasn’t this working the way it always did? “Daddy!” she was saying in her head, although it wouldn’t come out that way “DaddyDaddyDaddy”

And suddenly someone was there, swooping in and picking her up, cooing and shushing her, rocking and holding her tightly

“Oh Charlotte, you poor darling. No, no don’t cry, I’ve got you, it’s Ok, I promise, shhhhh. Good girl, good girl”. Charlotte knew this voice too, higher but soft and gentle and smelling like something she would quite like to lick. Not Daddy safe but safe enough. She decided it might be ok to stop crying, at least for a while.

Mrs. Hudson held the baby firmly over her shoulder and rocked her, gently patting her back as she cooed and shushed the poor lamb. “John? John where _are_ you? Charlotte was properly upset” She wandered from the living room to the kitchen looking for John and went down and knocked on the bathroom door. She frowned when there was no answer and paused for a moment outside Sherlock and John’s bedroom door. Less confidently, she knocked but there was still no answer. Mrs. Hudson moved Charlotte into the crook of her arm now, checking the baby’s breathing had returned to normal. She wondered if maybe Charlotte was hungry and had John popped out for more formula. She wrinkled her forehead at the idea, knowing perfectly well that John would have taken the child with her in the sling or even just asked herself to mind the baby.

Moving out to the landing, she called up the stairs in the hope that maybe John was upstairs in Charlotte’s room, but surely he would have heard her and answered by now.  Mrs. Hudson was by now very worried and decided to gather Charlotte’s things and bring her down to her own flat.

“I think we had better call your Sherlock” Mrs. Hudson cooed at Charlotte “and maybe your Uncle Greg”.


	2. Sherlock Arrived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock arrives home to look for John
> 
> "He had only left 86 minutes ago and, on the surface, the room looked the same as it had when he had kissed John on the lips and Charlotte on her sleeping forehead, and left. "

Mrs. Hudson hadn’t needed to ring them both because Lestrade was standing next to Sherlock when he took her worried call. They had been side by side examining the body of a smartly dressed middle-aged man found shot between the eyes and lying in the middle of the enclosed private garden of Eaton Square in Belgravia. Sherlock had relayed the details to Lestrade in two words “John’s gone” and the pair had lunged into a marked police car with Lestrade driving, the sirens shrieking. Careering to a halt outside 221b, Sherlock had charged up the stairs two at a time but come to an abrupt halt in the doorway of their flat.

Mrs. Hudson had met them in the hall, a crying Charlotte still over her shoulder and he could hear her and Greg having a frantic conversation. Sherlock focused, ignoring all the noise and examined the room in front of him. He had only left 86 minutes ago and, on the surface, the room looked the same as it had when he had kissed John on the lips and Charlotte on her sleeping forehead, and left. The sofa, chairs and desk were still all the same. Behind John’s chair Charlotte’s lemon changing table was exactly the same, pockets full of nappies, wipes, creams and clean baby vests. The white Babygro she had slept in was still in a ball at the top of the changing table and the changing bag was in its place on the floor next to it. Charlotte’s pink-lined Moses basket remained on its wooden frame in the middle of the room. The bottle holding the cold dregs of Charlotte’s breakfast was still on the coffee table but was now lying on its side. Sherlock deduced that John must be gone at least an hour as he rarely left the bottles lying around, scrupulously washing them and storing them in the steriliser until it was full and ready to put on.

Still not moving he scanned the floor and saw two footprints just inside the doorway and facing the window. They were a woman’s print, wearing trainers that had been wet when they had arrived and the marks of the pattern were left as the water had evaporated. He inhaled deeply, smelling yesterday’s dinner, baby formula, lavender massage cream and the now ever-present smell from the bin of dirty nappies. And something else. Suddenly, Sherlock lurched into the room, heading for the kitchen. As he did, the noise from downstairs infringed on his consciousness once again and he registered that Charlotte was still crying, more frantically now and he wondered was she hurt, although Mrs. Hudson would surely have said so on the phone.

Quickly moving from room to room he checked the kitchen, bathroom and their bedroom. Running upstairs he scanned Charlotte’s nursery. Although she had yet to sleep there, still being so small, it was full of the clothes and toys they had bought and been given as presents. Nothing was moved or missing from any of the rooms.

Sherlock closed his eyes and paused for a moment, the worry rising to the surface and he had to lean against the door frame. He was tired, having been up with Charlotte since her feed at 3 am and they had watched the sun come up together. He hadn’t bothered to go back to sleep before feeding her again at 6, instead folding the gargantuan amounts of clean clothes in the drier this one tiny person needed. He had responded to Lestrade’s urgent call at 6.55 before having had a chance to wash or eat.

 A second later his eyes snapped open and he ran back to his, no _their_ , bedroom. He pulled out the strong box from underneath John’s side of the bed and discovered it was unlocked and John’s pistol was gone.

“Lestrade. I think I know where John is” Sherlock shouted as he ran downstairs. He was brought up short by the sight of Greg holding Charlotte, rocking and shushing her but to no avail. The baby was still crying, harsh, sharp sobs.

“Mrs. Hudson” Sherlock barked “Charlotte’s formula is on the kitchen counter and the sterilised bottles are in the microwave marked ‘Charlotte's, and only Charlotte's’. Please feed her, she sounds hungry.

“I have fed her, well tried to, she wouldn’t take more than 2 ounces, she wasn’t hungry”, Mrs. Hudson flapped a hand at him, anxiously.

“Maybe wind then, or possibly her..” Sherlock was cut short by Greg handing the baby to him.

“I think she probably just wants her, er, you”. Sherlock took Charlotte who immediately stopped crying. He arched an eyebrow at her while cradling her, lifting her high up into his chest. Undoing his jacket button so it wouldn’t dig into her he faced Charlotte’s small body into his and whispered into her delicate ear “Don’t worry. I know where he is and Daddy is _fine_ ”. For a moment he gazed into her blue eyes, red from crying and wondered if maybe he should stay here with her and let Lestrade go to John. Maybe she needed him more. It as a fracturing thought and he felt his mind twist at the idea that there might be something in the universe more important than going to John. He knew instantly that John would want him to protect Charlotte at all costs, above all things, even himself. Sherlock gazed into those eyes and tried to reach a decision, his mind flooded with conflicting thoughts and images all bombarding him at the speed of light.

He was brought up short by his phone beeping with a new message. It was from John

**She came back. She changed her mind**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you are unfamiliar with the expression, Babygro, I believe they are known as Onesies in other parts of the world. They are cotton all-in-one stretchy baby clothes with poppers down the front and enclosed feet


	3. John Lied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Broken promises and BAMF John being a Good Daddy
> 
> “I had to see her John” There was long pause “I can’t do this. I have to have her. I need her!”
> 
> With extreme effort and self-control, John stopped the screaming in his head from coming out of his mouth “No. You don’t get to choose that. You gave up that right, remember?” His voice was quiet so as not to wake Charlotte but steely grey with fury. For the first time Mary looked up at him.

John was flicking on the kettle to boil when he heard the small noise in the living room. Presuming it was Sherlock back already he popped out his head to offer him tea. He pulled up short at the sight of Mary standing in the middle of the room staring at their sleeping baby in her Moses basket. He breathed in through his nose and exhaled slowly so as not to over-react.

“How did you get in?”

Mary never took her eyes off the child but waved a hair pin at John.

“You are not supposed to be here. You made us a promise” John slowly moved into the room as he spoke, ending at the top of Charlotte’s Moses basket.

“I had to see her John” There was long pause “I can’t do this. I have to have her. I need her!”

With extreme effort and self-control, John stopped the screaming in his head from coming out of his mouth “No. You don’t get to choose that. You gave up that right, remember?” His voice was quiet so as not to wake Charlotte but steely grey with fury. For the first time Mary looked up at him.

Her face was very thin and tired, her skin a grey colour and her clothes shapeless and loose, a pair of tracksuit bottoms, sweatshirt and trainers. Her hair and clothes were damp and the thumb and forefinger of her right hand were rubbing against each other compulsively. She bore little similarity to the woman he had married and didn’t even look much like the woman who had given birth to Charlotte just over a month ago. John took a small step back, away from Mary and closer to his daughter.

“Please John, I have to. She’s mine, my flesh and blood and all I have! You can’t do this to me, you and that, that junkie sociopath you’re so fond of”. Charlotte stirred slightly at Mary’s screeching.

“You mean the man you attempted to murder? The man who forgave you and kept your secrets and brought you to his parent’s for Christmas so you could be looked after? That man?” Sherlock had finally been compelled to tell John the truth about Mary the night of Charlotte’s brth. How it hadn’t really been her that had called the ambulance before she shot Sherlock. How she was still active as an assassin right up to the week before she had gone into labour and how he and Mycroft had conspired to keep her close until the baby was born.

Sherlock had looked at the baby, John’s baby, so delicate and untainted and known he had to protect her. He also knew that the child’s mother was her single greatest danger. John had railed at the news and “yet again, more _fucking_ lies!” but he had already come to accept that he had never really loved Mary, that she had only ever been a suture to keep his broken, oozing heart together when Sherlock jumped and died.

Less than an hour after the birth of their baby, John and Mary had reached an agreement that she was to be allowed to go free on the condition that she never make contact with John, Sherlock or most especially, Charlotte, ever again.

None of them had ever believed she would keep her word, but John had insisted they give her the chance. After all, her one redemption was this perfect, golden baby.

They had formulated a plan for just this eventuality. John and Sherlock had sat up one night with the baby wrapped in a blanket on the bed between them and discussed all the possible attacks Mary might make until the dawn broke and they finally slept. It had all come down to one simple fact. Whatever happened, John would protect Charlotte.

“No” hissed Mary “the man that stole you and my baby from me with _his_ lies!” John was only half listening to her now, he knew he needed to get into the bedroom.

“Lies? What lies? Why would he lie?”

Mary saw her opportunity “Of course they were lies. I love you John, I’ve always loved you, why would I put all we had at risk? I hadn’t been working after I shot Sherlock, there had been no more hits. I swear”! She was using exactly the approach Sherlock had predicted.

“Oh God, Mary I don’t know what to think. We, we need to talk. Sit down, it’s cold in here, I’m going to get Charlotte another blanket.

It was a calculated risk leaving her alone with the baby, but he and Sherlock had practiced chasing after her down the stairs. Carrying a baby slowed you down considerably if you were taking care not to hurt it. He was gone from the room exactly 23 seconds, during which time he had grabbed his pistol, a baby blanket and a jumper. He shoved the pistol into his waistband and came out pulling the jumper over his head and expecting to see Charlotte in her mother’s arms. Mary hadn’t moved. He covered Charlotte with the blanket, loosely and only from the waist down and checked she was still fast asleep and in one move pulled out his Sig and walked over to Mary and pointed it at her head.

“Get up. We’re leaving.” He grabbed her by the arm and keeping the pistol pressed firmly at her back, half walked and half carried her down the stairs and out of the front door.


	4. Mary Tried

Shifting Charlotte to hold her in the crook of his left arm, Sherlock looked up at Lestrade, mouth open to speak. He was brought up short by the sight of Lestrade and Mrs Hudson both beaming at him, faces lit up like the Oxford Street Christmas lights.

“What? John is in danger, why are you..?” he waved a hand, encompassing them both and their deeply inappropriate reaction to the situation.

“It’s, just seeing you like this dear” Mrs Hudson smiled “Look how happy she is with you, I spent ages trying to comfort her, all you had to do was hold her. I never thought I’d see the day!”

Sherlock considered her point for a moment, his mind still more focused on John. “Yes, well. We do have a certain affinity, I will grant you. We spend a lot of time together, you know, in the nights. I might as well feed her, I am usually up, no point in waking John. Speaking of whom, he is in danger and we cannot stand here _chit-chatting_ ”

“You said you knew where he was?”

“Yes he is with Mary. We were expecting her to return. Hoping she wouldn’t but had planned for this eventuality. He should be taking her to our agreed location. I need to make some phone calls”.

Mrs. Hudson held out her arms to take Charlotte who was dozing in the crook of Sherlock’s arm. He shook his head at her slightly and simply moved the baby to his left shoulder so he could still use the mobile in his right hand. He pulled up a number and dialled.

“Yes. It’s happened. John has her, contained hopefully. Go to Location A. I am on my way”.

He ended the call and immediately dialled another. As he spoke he began slowly walking up and down the hallway, adding a small bounce to his step.

“Mycroft, Yes. You knew? Excellent. How long? Yes, she is. No, with me. I agree. Well, I had thought to… yes that was the plan but there has been a… change. Oh for God’s sake Mycroft!”

Sherlock ended the call, scowling. He handed the now peaceful Charlotte to Mrs. Hudson “Bring her with you please Mrs. Hudson. Have you nappies and formula?”

“Yes, I brought some down the last time I babysat for you”

“Good. Please look after her for me and lock your door. Let no one in except John or I. Tell her Daddy will be back soon”. He planted a small kiss on the baby’s head and another on Mrs. Hudson’s cheek “your assistance has never been so valuable” he muttered in her ear. “Lestrade, with me!”

 

\--------------------------

Keeping the pistol firmly in the small of Mary’s back, John pushed her out of the taxi onto the empty, wet pavement.

“Keep walking. Round the corner” His rage had subsided on the short journey. Mary had sat with her head down, her hands laid flat on her knees and John had texted Sherlock then just stared out of the window. He was worried that he had left Charlotte on her own but knew that if she cried, Mrs. Hudson would hear her or that Sherlock would be back soon. It was a risk he had to take to get Mary away from her.

They had arrived outside a deserted taxi cab office, only a few minutes’ drive from Baker Street. It was an old haunt of Sherlock’s and well known amongst his homeless network. It had the advantage of a large unused car park outside and being small enough to easily contain. They had made sure there was still an electricity supply and as John forced open the old door, he switched on the lights.

Inside were a few old chairs covered in tatty fake leather, a few with the foam spilling out. The whole place stank of ancient cigarette smoke and the single fluorescent light flickered as it struggled to light. The walls were panelled in a dark wood and at one end was a hatch with a single desk stood behind it.

“Sit” he instructed her, quietly, the SIG still pointed at her. Mary had not looked at him once since they had left Baker Street but that was fine by him, he had no desire to look into those eyes that he had sworn to love forever. As she pulled out one of the tatty chairs, something scuttled long the wall. John glanced at the noise and heard a tearing noise from Mary’s direction. When he looked back at her, she was pointing a gun at his head, and he raised his to point at hers

“I always knew it would end like this”

\--------------------------

Closing the door of the shelter behind him, Billy walked purposefully down the busy road, weaving between the moving cars as he crossed and headed down the laneway between the bookies and the Indian restaurant. Reaching the fence at the end, he climbed up, pulling himself onto a window ledge, then up a drainpipe and eventually up onto the roof.

He and Sherlock had practiced this as the quickest route to the old cabbies office and from his closer starting point he knew this meant he would be there first. He was filled with pride at being able to help Sherlock and his trusted position in making this plan work. It had been a long time since anyone but Sherlock had trusted him and Billy was determined not to let him down. Clambering across the roofs and swinging around the chimney, he saw the cabbies in the distance. A minute later he was sat on the roof edge looking straight down into the grimy window. He phoned Sherlock

“It’s all gone a bit tits up ere mate. You’d want to ‘urry up, init?”

______________________________

“Why are you doing this Mary”?

She smiled at him, tipping her head slightly to the left, a wistful look on her face “You really don’t know do you? I never wanted that baby, I only went through with the pregnancy for you. And even that didn’t work”

“Work?” John shook his head slightly, but thinking more about external lines of sight and wondering how Mary had known to hide her gun here.

“I only ever wanted you, John. I love you. I have done since I met you. You were so lonely and fragile and you came back to life under my hands and kisses and it was beautiful. You are beautiful. And then _he_ came back and spoiled it all”

“That’s what this is about? Love? You think this is love!” John was keeping one ear open for a helicopter. He needed to keep her talking.

“Yes, this is our love. We were never going to end up in slippers in front of the fire drinking cocoa were we? The adrenaline junkie and the assassin. Come on!”

“And you had Charlotte just to keep me? Did you really not know by then, that it had never been you I loved?”

“You called her Charlotte? Hmmm not what I would have picked but nice enough I suppose. And yes, I knew you loved him. It was written all over your face in the restaurant the night you proposed. I was eclipsed, there and then. I hated him for that”

“Her full name is Charlotte Sherlock Rachel Watson” John knew this would only make matters worse but she needed to know, to understand

“Ha Watson! You know she’s not even yours!”

John and Sherlock had wondered the same thing. John had decided it didn’t matter if she was his or not but Sherlock had gone ahead and done a DNA test anyway behind his back. He had presented the results to John in a plain white envelope but the look on Sherlock’s face was one John had never seen before. The simple letter had confirmed Charlotte was most definitely John’s daughter. “I told you it didn’t matter” he had said “It will do one day” Sherlock had responded simply. He had been right.

“That’s not going to work Mary. I’m not going to fall for that. I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work. If you love me so much, why are you pointing a gun at my head?”

Mary gave a small, bitter laugh “I’m so done sharing you. It was bad enough I always had to share you with him, but now her too. It’s not fair, I never had you to myself”.

“And is that what you want? Want me to go away somewhere with you? Just the two of us?”

“No, John. I’m not stupid. I know that will never happen now. But if I can’t have you, I’m damn sure _they_ can’t have you either”.


	5. John Decided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some gun violence in this chapter, so please be warned if that might be a trigger for you

John stared back at Mary, keeping his gaze steady and unflinching, his military training kicking in. He strained his ears to hear police sirens or a helicopter but all he could make out was the traffic rushing past the door.

 _It wouldn’t be so bad_ , he thought, _if I died here, today. Sherlock finally knows I love him and Charlotte is safe and with people who love her and will protect her. At least I got to meet her and know her. I would be missed, but she would know her Daddy died to protect her._

He smiled a tiny half smile.

The speeding police car came to a skidding halt in the middle of the car park outside the cabbies and Sherlock climbed out before the vehicle had even stopped moving. Billy was stood eight feet back from the office, just out of the line of sight of the window, watching. He put out his arm to stop Sherlock who was running frantically towards him.

“Go easy boss” Billy hissed “Don’t need no one rushing in there, it’s all a bit hairy”.

Sherlock stood and looked. The dirty window threw back his own reflection as Billy held him, his crumpled suit and two days of unshaven growth on his face. Through the window he could see John pointing his gun straight at Mary, and hers back at John. The reflection of his own face hovered above the two outstretched arms.

“Mycroft already sent in an armed response unit” Lestrade panted next to him “There’s a sniper behind the building, one on the roof and now two out here. Don’t worry, she’s not getting out of here”.

Sherlock had been assessing the situation and suddenly turned on his heels and ran back towards Lestrade’s car. The policeman followed him “Its Ok Sherlock, he’s safe, there’s no way she’s getting out of this. He’s safe”

“You idiot, don’t you see, Sherlock shouted “I have to go home. Oh God I’ve been so stupid!”

Inside the cabbies, Mary tilted her head at John’s small smile “Oh I see, you think I won’t do it. You think that my feelings for you will stop me from shooting you. Really, John, that just goes to show how little you really know me after all”

“No, that’s not what I was thinking at all. I am now perfectly aware that you are a psychotic killer who lets nothing get in her way. But I do feel just a little bit sorry for you. I was smiling because of all the love I have in my life, all the beautiful, glorious little moments of happiness and joy. You don’t even have those feelings for the amazing child you brought into the world. You have no idea what that means. It doesn’t matter what happens now. You are already dead”

A single gunshot rang out.

___________________

As he had stood looking through the window Sherlock realised he had made a dreadful mistake. Mary had a gun. Which meant she had help. Mycroft had made sure she was under constant surveillance and they knew that she did not have a gun in her possession. So someone had known of their plan, organised the gun and taped it to the underside of one of the chairs.

More to the point, if Mary had help, then Charlotte was in danger and Sherlock had a decision to make. Stay and save John or go to Charlotte. He had turned on his heel and ran.

As the car sped back to Baker Street, A text came in from Billy;

**Shot fired**

Sherlock rested his head on the window and begged the universe

_Please, please not John. Not now, please._

The car lurched to a stop outside 221 Baker Street and Sherlock rushed to the door. It was already ajar. Silently he crept in, glancing up the stairs to his own flat but heading for Mrs. Hudson’s door. He heard a male voice, Mrs Hudson crying and begging then a man laughing. Sherlock looked around for some sort of weapon, finding an umbrella drying in a stand.

He pushed open the door and saw a stout man in a white suit standing with his back to him and Mrs Hudson tied to a chair. The man held a bundle of blankets, although Sherlock couldn’t make out if it was the baby and there was no sound of crying. As he walked into the room, he shoved the man hard to the left and made a grab for the blankets, which fell to the ground, empty.

The heavy man landed hard on his back but turned and pointed the gun in his right hand up at Sherlock. Sherlock swung the handle of the umbrella as hard as he could and knocked the gun out of the man’s hand as Mrs. Hudson shrieked. Both men made a grab for the gun but Sherlock just got his hand to it first. Standing over the man sprawled on the floor, Sherlock pointed the gun at him

“Where is my daughter?” he growled.


	6. Mary Died

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary reaps the consequences of her actions and Sherlock makes a promise
> 
> "The armed policemen retreated as quickly as they had arrived. John was left with his shaking arm pointing a gun at thin air and the sound of his own voice ringing in his ears. He managed to stop screaming out loud but the sound carried on in his head."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, please be warned, there is gun violence and blood in this chapter, but it gets a bit more cheerful at the end.

John heard the shot and had just a microsecond to wonder if it he had fired it. Then the glass from the window exploded in on top of him and he hit the ground covering his head from the shards. He lay on the ground waiting for the pain to kick in and saw the blood pooling around his face. It was only when he very cautiously lifted his head that he saw Mary lying next to him.

She had been shot between the eyes.

The door burst open and three men clad head to toe in black bulletproof gear, helmets and goggles filled the doorway. Instinctively John pointed the gun still in his hand at them and began to scream.

______________________

Sherlock didn’t have to wait for the stranger sprawled out in front of him to answer his question. A thin cry came from behind him and Sherlock spun around to find Charlotte, but there was no sign of her. She cried again, louder and more insistent this time and Sherlock realised the sound was coming from inside a zipped-up navy blue duffle bag lying on the ground just inside the front door. Clearly he had got these just in time.

“You put her in a … _bag_?” he demanded, undoing it and lifting a sobbing Charlotte out.

“Sshhh, you are alright now. I have you, you are safe, little one” me murmured in her ear and held the baby tightly to his chest, gently kissing the top of her head.

While he was distracted, the man in the now grubby white suit tried to scramble across the floor towards the doorway, only to be met by a sharp kick from Sherlock to his nose that sent the man flying backwards, bleeding profusely. Sherlock pulled out his phone while simultaneously heading for Mrs. Hudson to begin untying her. The phone began to ring and Sherlock was momentarily confused.

“Ah Lestrade, I was just about to call you. There has been an intruder at 221 and I need you to apprehend ……. Yes, I did, Billy texted me….. yes of course, but who….. thank you, yes I will be there as soon as I can”.

Ending the call, Sherlock moved to Mrs Hudson. Carefully laying Charlotte down on the kitchen rug, he quickly loosened his landlady’s bonds and removed the gag. Going down on his haunches, he looked her straight in the eye.

“I have to go. There has been a shooting, John needs me. I shall bring the baby with me but I need you to stand guard here until the police arrive. Can you do that?” Mrs. Hudson nodded silently and Sherlock handed her the gun

“Very good. Not long now and it will be all over”. He hugged her quickly and scooping Charlotte up, he headed for the front door, only to be met by two police cars when he opened it. Four uniformed officers poured in and Sherlock climbed into the other car. Sirens blaring, they headed back to the cabbies office.

_____________________

The armed policemen retreated as quickly as they had arrived. John was left with his shaking arm pointing a gun at thin air and the sound of his own voice ringing in his ears. He managed to stop screaming out loud but the sound carried on in his head. Still holding the gun, he put his hands onto the floor and moved to all fours. Not noticing the growing pool of blood spreading slowly towards him, he began to crawl towards the back wall. Once there, he sat leaning back against the filthy wood panels, exhausted and shaking. He was still breathing hard and the sweat pouring out of him was mixing with the dirt and splattered blood. John began to rock backwards and forwards slightly, his eyes closed.

He had no idea how long he had been there when he heard a voice outside the door call his name.

“John! It’s me. It’s Sherlock. I want to come in and talk to you. Can I come in?”

John was unable to answer but nodded his head. He really wanted to see Sherlock.

“John, I don’t know but I believe you are nodding so I am going to come in. Please put the gun down”.

John looked at the SIG in his hand. He hadn’t realised he was still holding it. He let it slide to the floor where it landed with a small thunk. Sherlock put just his head around the door. At the sight of him, a tear began to roll down John’s face.

Sherlock came in slowly. He glanced at the broken window and Mary lying on the floor. He sat down near to John but not touching.

“She’s dead, Sherlock. I was looking her in the eye and they shot her. I thought I had done it” the tears kept coming “I’m covered in her blood”.

“I’m so sorry John. I’m sorry for leaving you. Maybe I could have stopped this if I had been here”

“You left!” John was incredulous “but you never leave a situation like this. Why did you leave?”

Sherlock edged closer and held out his hand. John looked at it and slowly took it, wiping away the tears with his other hand.

“I, that is, Charlotte” he started. John’s head flew up.

“Charlotte! What happened, is she OK?”

“She is fine but when I first arrived and saw you and Mary, I realised that Charlotte was in danger. I knew that for Mary to have a gun here, she must have help and that she would send someone for the baby. I’m sorry, John. I left you to go to her”.

John looked Sherlock in the eye and suddenly threw himself into the other man’s arms. “Thank you, thank you” he clung to Sherlock’s shoulder and buried his face in his chest, weeping now. The two men sat on the blood-covered floor and just held each other for a few minutes as John’s weeping peaked and subsided. When he had regained a small amount of composure, John raised his face and looked into Sherlock’s eyes.

“I want you to make me a promise, Sherlock. Promise me that whatever else happens to us or between us, whatever dangers we get ourselves into that you will always go to Charlotte. Please, promise me that you will protect her”.

Sherlock, lifted John’s hand to his mouth. He gently kissed the fingers and looked back at John.

“I promise”.

________________________

 

That night, an exhausted John was sat in his chair feeding Charlotte her last bottle of the day. Once they had been fully interviewed and John’s SIG had been taken into police custody, Lestrade had dropped them home. The man who had been trying to abduct Charlotte was being questioned and Sherlock was awaiting a call to tell him the man’s identity and how he and Mary had been linked.

Mrs. Hudson was sat on the sofa drinking tea.

“It’s been a very long day, boys” she sighed “I think I shall turn in”. She hesitated a moment and Sherlock offered to escort her downstairs. “Just this once, dear” she allowed.

John looked at his daughter. It was the first time they had been alone together since he had walked out this morning and left her on her own. He crossed one leg over the other, resting his ankle on the opposite knee and propping his baby up facing him.

“I’m sorry, my darling, for what I had to do today. Daddy didn’t want to leave you. I won’t do it again. I had to keep you safe, though and I’m afraid, your mother was a serious danger to you. She’s gone now but don’t you worry, we will be more than enough to make up for that, me and your..” he looked up and smiled at Sherlock who was standing in the doorway watching them.

“Dada?”

“No, John”

“Pappy?”

“No, John”

“Pops, then?”

“No, John!”

“What then?”

“Father”.

_________________________

That night, the three of them slept together in the same bed, exhausted and filthy. John had yet to have the energy to do more than wash his hands and Sherlock was still unshaven and wearing his suit, now crumpled and dirtied almost beyond recognition. John stirred and shouted in his sleep, and when Charlotte awoke at 5 am for a bottle, Sherlock brought her into the living room so as to let John sleep and he and his daughter watched together as the dawn broke over London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That brings this little story to an end. I would like to dedicate it to all the great Daddies who fight for and protect their children everyday, although hopefully not from murderous mothers, and to all those parents who are both Mother and Father to their children.


End file.
